Disparity
by DaDomz
Summary: AU. See all those fics where they aren't Wizards but high school kids and Harry's the loser and Draco's the popular jock? Well, this time, Harry's the self-declared social reject rebel and Draco's the popular brat who's on a mission. UPDATE 01-01-04
1. Prologue

DISPARITY by: Dadomz  
  
Prologue  
  
The tinkle of toasted crystal champagne flutes reverberated through the atmosphere intermingled with demure tones sufficiently temperate to suit society's dictates yet boisterous enough to fill an entire room. Raucous laughter interspersed with urbane musings filled the air as the most affluent of landed gentry decided to grace the marbled ballroom's near ostentatious ambiance.  
  
The décor was subtle enough yet conspicuous in the vivid aura it displayed to indicate opulence. And ensconced within the pool of light emanating from the ornately decorated crystal chandelier stood the soiree's guest of honor, heir of one of Britain's most prosperous businesses and the embodiment of what true aristocracy should be; Draco Lucius Malfoy.  
  
Beside him stood his parents, a conclusion which can be made through evidence of their features; striking liquid gold-nearly silver-hair, aristocratic noses, the manner in which they conducted themselves, the elegance which seemed to seep from every pore and the amused unattached disparagement which they seemed to cast upon everything they viewed.  
  
The redoubtable Lucius Malfoy, president of the family corporation whose estimated net worth has been placed a little over sixty billion pounds had a near permanent look of contempt plastered over his features while his mouth would forever hold the slight upturn of a sneer. He had a strong chin yet a pointed jaw, a high forehead; clearly the mark of a blue blood, hard granite eyes with broad shoulders and a formidable height. Clearly not a man to be questioned nor meddled with.  
  
His wife stood a few inches shorter than him and although she held a similar aloofness as her husband, hers was not of arrogance but of an elegance that commanded everyone else stay away yet called for their attentions nonetheless. Similarly shaded locks fell to her waist in sleek waves which glimmered in the light. Fine-boned features and an aristocratic nose complimented her façade, presenting the look of deep-rooted landed gentry.  
  
A manicured hand lay upon her son's shoulder, the illustrious Draco Malfoy who could be described as propitious for he inherited his features from both of his parents, though more from his mother if anything. He received both envious and appreciative glances from anyone who came into his acquaintance yet more than anything he was immediately wanted.  
  
Glancing about the room in detached disapproval, he brought the glass of sparkling amber liquid to lush pink lips and after swallowing part of it continued his survey of the room. All of them his father's associates and ingratiates, sycophants all of them. Well, it wasn't as if he'd had any say in accordance to this gala. His light grey orbs strayed over to the bandstand and regarded it with a similar indifference until his eyes nearly comically settled themselves on an interesting piece of someone.  
  
His attention never faltering, he cleared his throat and leaned slightly to the left, his head inclined slightly towards the podium. His father caught the nearly imperceptible action. Ivory brow raised in diverted curiosity, he spoke; voice a deep resonant baritone with a perceptible East European accent; "Draco?"  
  
"Father-" The boy cut his sentence short, realizing this would not be the best way to go on with the subject he wished to discuss. "Daddy," he amended, a subtle hint of the adorable charm he had held as a child and most likely still did considering the lavish attention and presents his parents gifted him with.  
  
The imperial Malfoy brow rose even higher, if this was even feasible, at hearing that endearment, one not suited in public, not for a family like theirs.  
  
"Daddy, remember when you told me that I could have anything I want for my birthday this year no matter how improbable?" Innocent fluttering of lashes over clear grey orbs and a slowly increasing protruding of the bottom lip.  
  
Sometimes Lucius Malfoy believed his child was unconscious of his natural charms. Occasionally, he attributed this particular trait to the prestigious Malfoy lineage.  
  
"Yes, Draco."  
  
A spark of success lit within those crystalline eyes, sensing that the battle which had not yet been raged would be won. "Well Daddy, you see that boy playing the red electric guitar?"  
  
Dread and foreboding swept through Lucius Malfoy, something he was not accustomed to until his son had turned fifteen.  
  
"I do."  
  
"I want him for my birthday."  
  
Most of the time he blamed that allure on Narcissa. He should have put his foot down on those blue dresses she clothed him in until he turned ten; the rage in Paris his ass!  
  
Lucius Malfoy; the man worth billions of pounds in Europe alone with hundreds of businesses the world over, employer of millions with ancient prestigious royal blood running through his veins; wasn't proof against those eyes filled with silent childish pleading. Damn Narcissa for imparting her infinite knowledge onto their child, knowledge which consisted of persuading men into bending backwards to please them.  
  
Sometimes his wife walked all over him without his knowledge; now his son was doing the same. And he would allow them to do so, as was the norm in their family.  
  
"Fine. I'll have Dobby send him to your room once this soiree is over?"  
  
"You are absolutely wonderful Daddy!"  
  
The smile that lit up those features nearly compensated for his deception and he knew that his Draco was desperately trying to squelch the urge to hug him. Well, sentiments were not best shown in public and he personally knew his son would thank him in the morning, hopefully after that boy was sent away.  
  
Subtly casting a glance to his right, towards the bandstand, he picked out the boy his son had called attention to. Another blond whose face and build was frighteningly similar to that of his son's regular paramour.  
  
So much like his mother, the same woman who was now congratulating Draco on his fine taste in men.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Get back here, boy!"  
  
Purpling in the face and seemingly on the beginnings of another seizure were terms one could use to describe Vernon Dursley as a large hand convulsively held the knob of the door which served as an entryway to their home, a home which bore a striking resemblance to just about every other house within a five block radius.  
  
Eyes drawn into slits glared daggers at the youth who was strolling down the Dursley driveway while tugging on an abominable jacket which had most likely belonged to his mongrel father. A placating hand whispered up the arm which held the door open and he turned to face his wife; a rather plain- faced woman who at first sight may have been too thin to suit her towering height. She self-consciously tugged at the string of pearls at her throat; a nervous habit.  
  
"Vernon, please.He's merely a boy. Once he turns eighteen, that trust fund his parents had the foresight to arrange will come to fruition and he will be gone from our lives."  
  
That once purple face gradually lost its livid color as he smiled tenderly at his wife.  
  
"He's my family Vernon and no matter how much he resembles that Potter boy Lily thought she loved, he's still a part of her."  
  
"You loved her so much, didn't you?" He calmly shut the door but not before he cast a last disapproving glance at his nephew-not by blood, mind you. No need for the neighbors hearing about their private lives.  
  
Petunia retreated into their comfortable living room, albeit overly decked in floral patterns. She absently patted an excessively stuffed maroon armchair-her husband's favorite- a nearly instinctive gesture.  
  
He ambled towards the piece of furniture, his heavy footfalls casting tread marks over their cornflower blue yet still flower-patterned living room carpet and promptly occupied the seat while his wife fiddled with the various knickknacks on their iron-framed glass coffee table-another nervous habit of hers.  
  
"It's because he has her eyes, you see," she prattled, fidgeting with her hair; assuring that every strand was in place. "I wouldn't have kept him any longer if he didn't have her eyes."  
  
Her voice had a near pleading tone to it as her eyes glazed over. He understood the reasons as to why the mere mention of her sister brought long-buried emotions to the surface. If only beautiful, book-smart and sheltered middle-class Lily Evans hadn't believed she was in love with James Potter, that rich blue-blooded bastard. How an illustrious family as that of the Potters could have raised such an insurgent boy.  
  
And that accident.It tore at Petunia's heart to the extent that she couldn't even stand to be in the same room with Potter's child weeks after he had been delivered on their doorstep hours succeeding the accident.  
  
Now that child was once again the cause of her anguish as he was becoming more and more like his father with each passing day.  
  
Vernon could barely wait for the next twelve months to pass; only a year before they would finally be free of Potter and everything he represented.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Oh, God, you're so beautiful."  
  
Draco rolled his eyes at those words as Raphael or whatever-his-name-was repeated them for what seemed like the hundredth time. Wouldn't put it past the dark-eyed man if he had. Slipping out of the tight embrace that that mere employee wrapped him in and shrugging off any more attempts at any maudlin contact between them, Draco sinuously sat upright on the mattress as he cast a vaguely concealed look of disgust towards boy he had gotten for his birthday.  
  
His lack of appreciation towards any further affection that the boy intended to shower him with was clearly evident as he stood, not bothering to cover-up his body, seeing as to he did own the hotel they were currently occupying-no need to get his room back home dirty with another's body fluids, what with his boyfriend, Adrian, and never having even laid on the elaborate four-poster in his personal space.  
  
He had just experienced lukewarm sex with someone he had considered could give him more-he had been mistakenly impressed when the boy removed the rented tux from his body and the sight of a pale yet muscled chest nearly induced him to drool.  
  
His persuasions had been for nothing, seeing as to guitar boy had just recently discovered his sexual preference and was content to be the submissive one, something which Draco did not like as well, what with him also preferring it up in the ass.  
  
He walked over towards his desk, unconsciously provocative and sensual, intending to reach his silk robe which had been casually draped over the back of a chair, something which meant that what had occurred in the room had come to a conclusion but for whatever reason-maybe the view of Draco's backside-Robert-what'shisface didn't understand the meaning of Draco's gestures and thought it was an invitation to start shagging once more.  
  
Draco fell to the floor as he was tackled from behind and horny-as-a-bunny Roger started licking his skin. Not only disgusted at the inherent lack of intelligence and the bruises his sensitive skin would undoubtedly garner, he struggled to push the other boy off, thanking the gods that whoever-he- was seemed to be only a few inches taller than himself and consequently a few pounds heavier.  
  
How good of him that his type of men was limited to blonde, lithe boys; Adrian, his steady, was classified under the same category.  
  
"Could you please vacate the room?"  
  
Yes, even under tremendous pressure, a Malfoy is constantly composed.  
  
"What?" Eyes wide with confusion and hurt.  
  
How insipid! Draco almost pitied him, if only the dolt weren't rubbing up his leg like a dog in heat.  
  
"Leave. We are done, are we not?"  
  
Turning around, Draco plucked the robe from where it was draped over the chair and donned it only to turn and find his previous bed partner once again stretched across his bed, casting come-hither looks in his direction.  
  
"I am not playing hard-to-get, clearly; for if I were, I would not be so difficult to persuade. Now leave the premises before I am forced to summon the authorities or better yet, John. You do remember John, do you not? That Eurasian man posted outside the door?"  
  
* * * * *  
  
Harry lit the tip of a fag he had retrieved from his jacket pocket and took a deep drag. Life definitely sucked. Passing through pale pink curtains strung up with love beads and graffitied to the point of being dumpster candidacy, he surveyed the alley furnished to look like some sort of club. Broken planks were bound together in semblance of benches and stools, stolen canvas banners were spray-painted in what could be described as homage to the ancient Vandals who had raided the fallen Roman Empire. A bar counter which ran halfway down the alley was constructed out of broken doors and wooden steps.  
  
A leather-clad biddy with enough piercings to set off an airport security system was situated behind the counter, mixing drinks and chatting up patrons such as himself. She was an attractive thing with half of her head shaved off while the other half fell to her waist, a blue fall of curls, and dark kohl make-up. She worked part-time at Hamish's Tattoo Parlor down the street; he'd even had her do the tattoo on his back a few years back. Good lay. That and coupled with the fact that they had a strictly platonic relationship made her an amiable companion during days like these.  
  
"Brute of an uncle got you worked up?"  
  
He raised a brow, running a hand through the rumpled mess on his head which could somewhat be classified as hair and shrugged. "Could be worse."  
  
She laid a bottle of beer before him and leaned on the make-shift countertop. "Still can't believe he didn't use to beat you up."  
  
He picked up the lager and raised it appreciatively in her direction. "Can't do that now, can he?" A mockery of a toast before he downed most of the bottle.  
  
"Think he regrets it?"  
  
"Every fucking day of his life."  
  
She chuckled, shaking her head. Of course he does. Harry was built, she could've attested to that fact even if she'd never slept with him. His figure alone emanated some sort of raw power he had to learn to control. Great genes and physical make-up. Eyes that could give you an instant orgasm or stop you dead.  
  
She straightened as their only other barkeep slipped her an order. Back to work, anyway it wasn't as if Harry would be obliged to converse any more than he already had. That boy was much too bloody emotionless; it just freaked her. Plus, Benji would not be pleased if she neglected her job over 'idle flirting' with customers. Still, Potter intrigued her. He was an enigma and she was a regular Nancy Drew, she doubted if he eve knew of his own heritage. But his self-possessed carriage might contradict that.  
  
One thing though, he resembled those affluent barristers and political cannibals constantly parading themselves on the telly, even shared their name too. She was damn sure about one thing though and that was he was a bastard, told her as much himself, he bloody well did. Poor mama got knocked up by one of those hoity-toity blue-bloods and they disowned him 'cause he fell in love with her along the way, so old gossip went.  
  
Lifestyles of the rich and fucked-up.  
  
* * * * * A/N: Hope you like. We were kinda tired of reading fics with Harry as the scrawny loser kid, the proverbial dork and along comes knight-in-shining armour Draco who swoops down and gives him the opportunity to be cool and stuff. Well, we hate it when Harry's typecast as the subby geek. We'd like to think of him as tall, dark and brooding, the posterboy for angsting only with sizzling hot good looks. Just because he has glasses doesn't mean that he's the dork. 


	2. Chapter One

Disparity  
  
Dadomz   
  
Disclaimer: We don't own anything. But by God, we do wish we did own them. or Gundam or. Reichen and Chip! But hey, Gundam and Reichen and Chip aren't in this story, so. here's to desiring..   
  
Warning: SLASH, it consists of five letters with millions and millions of synonymous meanings like Shounen-ai, yaoi, lemon, homoerotica and all that shit (Maybe not millions and millions though.). Anyone sending flames regarding the latter shall be burned in hell under the Islam gods (And sue me, I don't practise Islam) for the sin more commonly known as affected ignorance-die ignoramus! AU too and possible OOC!   
  
Author's note: Okay, maybe this idea seems over-used-or as told by our friends-but hey, this thing is innocent, we didn't know other ideas actually existed-plus, we haven't read any-yet. Anyway, we're doing our best and trying and hopefully, you'd like it too. GUNDAM RULES (3+4, 1+2 and 5+Treize. by: Domz, the latter having been claimed as an act of pedophilia by Dada)   
  
  
  
I. As Far as the Famous 'First Day of School' Went.   
  
Some people dread the first day of school for some felt this odd toad-sized lump in their throats while others perhaps experienced that all-too familiar bizarre wrenching feeling in their gut. Of course, these frequent bouts of nausea and prolonged trips to the loo and the scared shitless situations have always had a common reason, but not because the subjects were pregnant, nay! The most probable reason would be: the impending lessons. Who the hell would want to go to school? Or perhaps it could have been due to their status. it would be quite pitiful knowing you've come out of the previous grade branded as the biggest loser ever.   
  
BINGO! That would be it; social standing! I don't think I need to elaborate any further, if you've actually gone to school, you'd know what I mean and if you haven't, you can't be very well reading this fic without the rudimentaries now can you? I mean, come on, how about those popular girls you'd just love to throw gum at or perhaps recall those brainless jocks who are the most likeliest to fall for the bimbo airhead? Familiar, ey?  
  
Typecasting but true.   
  
So, there you have it, the ultimate reason to hate school.   
  
But of course, those things only happen to some people and obviously, Draco Malfoy was definitely not someone you would be able to classify as mundane. Draco Malfoy had never felt any kind of fear down in the bottomless pit he called a stomach. In all actuality, he felt quite the opposite. It was the beginning of a new school year; another two whole semesters reserved for the sole purpose of tormenting the poor losers of Monkshood Preparatory. You've guessed it folks; Draco Malfoy was not only filthy rich but fucking popular and devilishly handsome as well, or so he'd like to think, which wasn't all that far off-excluding the last remark what with his beauty rivaling that of all the females in the entire bloody school.   
  
And with his kind of social standing and position in the school hierarchy, he had nothing to worry about. After all, just a few off-hand comments to beautiful-and ugly-teachers alike here and there earns him recognition or perhaps a blow job for one of those straight and unsurprisingly lonely male professors would get him back on track. It wasn't as if he needed to wrap his teachers around his finger but the point was, he knew he could do it, so why the hell not?   
  
He stopped before the door which led into his homeroom class, standing straight and proud-even if he wasn't at all that tall. He adjusted his tie and managed to pull a loose golden strand from his head. He adjusted his expensive leather bag up his shoulder and twisted the rusty knobs, prepared to make his grand entrance.   
  
'Fashionably late. that's what I call it.'   
  
He managed to smile at his friend, Pansy Parkinson, who directed a warm smile at him after slipping her boyfriend, Blaise Zabini, a note. He then managed to pull on his million-pound-smile at the highly-esteemed and-err. short-Professor Flitwick, his homeroom adviser and Economics teacher.   
  
"And you must be.?"   
  
"Draco Malfoy sir." He paused pulling an apple from his expensive leather (Gucci) pack. "I'm sorry I came in late, my father had wanted to have a word with me, a father and son pep talk, so to say, about doing well in school. I hope you'll accept my apology-my sir! And that's a wonderful tie you've got on."   
  
"Really?" The short man's eyes lit up, pulling his tie. "I had it done personally by Madam Malkin. Anyway, take a seat young man, take a seat." He ushered the blond towards a seat far from Pansy and Blaise.   
  
"Professor, I want to sit next to Pansy and Blaise." Draco managed his world famous patented Draco Malfoy pout.   
  
"There isn't any left." Professor Flitwick started checking the third row for any excess chairs. "Not unless if you want to change with young Neville Longbottom, he'd be happy to do that at least."   
  
Draco stared at the robust boy, his uniform looking far too small compared to his built. Draco then remembered this little boy as his old seatmate in junior high, the same boy who picked from his nose and deposited all its glory under the desk.   
  
Shaking his head and not exactly wanting anything ungodly on his ironed slacks, he turned around and thanked Professor Flitwick. "Thanks but no thanks, I wouldn't want any snots and bogies stuck to my preppy and ironed grey slacks, na-uh." He muttered in a hushed undertone.   
  
He then took a seat on the far corner of the classroom, suddenly aware of the dust gathering on top of the desk. He then pulled out an ethanol bottle and started spraying it continuously until he saw the door bang open. Dropping his bottle, he stared at the boy totally aghast.   
  
A tall and slightly muscular, from what he could see from that vantage point, boy entered, his sleeves still bunched up to his elbows with three buttons open from the top of his shirt, a wondrous sight-if you considered a fine chiselled chest a sight.   
  
Draco rolled his eyes and gave a loud sigh, this boy had taken his title of being fashionably late-not that he was fashionable, no, not at all. the boy happened to be Harry-the great-Potter, whose football scholarship made no effect on his standing in school society. "And he's late!" He exclaimed aloud. "I would've said fashionably late but it never did occur to me that we had to wear rags to school."   
  
"Draco!" Pansy mock-scolded him, "You know you're not allowed to make fun of those. less fortunate. than ourselves." She threw a scathing look towards a bushy-haired girl. "I mean really, some people just don't know how to dress-up, tell me. was it ever stated in the school handbook that we actually have to wear skirts below our knees. it says above the knees. but of course, If I were Granger. I'd do the same. Who'd want to wear short skirts with such hairy legs?"   
  
"Settle down, settle down." Flitwick managed as the tight-ring group of girls surrounding Pansy giggled. "Mr. Potter, you've already disrupted my class, why don't you sit down. that empty desk over there would suffice." He pointed towards Draco. Draco was about to ask what empty desk? when he realised that a vacant seat was situated just next to him.   
  
The tall boy didn't speak, if he was mad or nervous, Draco didn't know, from all the years Draco knew Harry Potter the great, he had realised that he never did show a sign of joy or perhaps sorrow, maybe irritation, yes but melancholy and laughter, never. Not even the time when he won against the Durmstrang Dragons.   
  
But then again, Draco didn't really care.   
  
I mean, why would he? Give me one good reason. No, not that you perverts!   
  
Harry Potter wasn't a geek, he wasn't a loser, he was just an outcast-a self proclaimed social reject rebel type. Draco spread lots and lots of rumours about him-faux rumours, that is. For instance, how he never washed his hair or perhaps how Potter got a tattoo on his forehead in the shape of a faint lightning bolt or perhaps the part where he grew up in the jungle and was domesticated by aliens from the planet Uranus. He got a good laugh when it reached Harry, who, oddly nodded and shrugged and went back talking to his close loser friends.   
  
When Harry first came to Monkshood, everyone wanted to be his friend. He was popular for a while, football quarterback and all. Handsome and gorgeous and exotic-looking, the knight in shining armour and the leading man in everyone's dreams. What made him tumble down from the hierarchy was the fact that he was never really sociable; Draco found him arrogant and that's saying something, after all, Draco was arrogant himself.   
  
But Harry wasn't just arrogant, he was odd and he was silent and he was anti-social. The slightest thing could annoy him and he did have the finest taste. ironically speaking, I mean, mind you, Granger and Weasley?   
  
First off, Weasley was this boy with bright red hair-he more resembled a carrot rather than a living human being. He had too many freckles, far more than the shillings in his parent's vault. Draco has heard that the Weasley lineage had noble blood in it, well. rest assured, this Weasley didn't have a trace of noble heritage, if you know what I mean.   
  
And then, there's Granger. Bushy hair, bushy eyebrows-mono-brow, hairy legs, buckteeth and a mouth that doesn't dare close whenever a teacher throws a question. Sure, she was an independent girl who had managed to tackle Draco thrice in junior high for calling her a bint, but hell! Draco wouldn't actually want to marry anyone who looked like that even if she were the last woman on earth and he were straight-which was probably why he turned out gay.   
  
But the matchmaker in Draco's soul flourished and he saw an opportunity for the Weasley and Granger nuptials, after all, Boring and Lousy did make quite a pair, didn't it? They could both compromise, Weasley could teach Granger how to shave and Granger could most probably be able to teach Weasley the difference between Math and Literature or Shakespeare and Einstein.   
  
"Are we going to keep this seating arrangement for the rest of the school year?" Draco asked loudly, glaring at Harry who relentlessly ignored him. "I don't want to sit next to Potter, I heard he's never washed his hair and god knows what lives in there."   
  
"Cooties." Millicent squealed.   
  
"No, you bimbo, lice!" Draco rolled his eyes. "So, can I please change places with someone else. except for Longbottom, please! Please! Please! I promise I'll contribute a wonderful donation to this establishment-or maybe I could. organize a fund raiser. or anything that involves money, yes. don't you just love the sound of that?"   
  
"Until then, you're going to have to keep this current arrangement." Flitwick sighed. "I'll venture to call this discipline, people who lack discipline do not attain the full potential of their goals. it has something to do with the adage of the early bird getting the juicy worm."   
  
"Bugger." Draco scowled. "Potter, will you stop staring at me? Uggh! I know you've got the hots for me but it's really aggravating. you staring at me like that and imagine my putting up with it every single day from now on!" Harry snorted softly before shaking his head and pulling out a spiral notebook from his ratty knapsack.   
  
Draco extricated his own leather-bound notebook and an expensive fountain pen his father gave him for a gift. He started noting down the name of his teacher and admired his handwriting, doodling useless words and hearts and more words, framing the whole page, not realising that it was nearing the end of the period.   
  
He then felt a tap on his shoulder.   
  
"Would you mind if I. borrowed a pen." Harry asked cautiously. "I'll return it, I swear. Your ignorance about the natural qualities of hair is putting me off, though."   
  
"Oh that's just sweet, you want to borrow my pen and then you insult me." Draco paused. "All right, here, you can keep it, I've got lots of them at home, just don't tell anyone it's from me.I mean, doing that would be like shoving my face own face in the toilet."   
  
"Wouldn't bother." Harry shrugged. "Who's Adrian anyway?"   
  
"That's none of your business." Draco slammed his notebook shut. "I lent you my pen, don't get chummy-chummy with me, mister. Oh. Did I manage to tell you that I want to be the next quarter back? No? Oh, okay then. I want to be the next quarter back. Good news is, I've started a petition bent on ousting you, you don't actually mind now. do you? I mean, I do look better in the uniform. I've got curves to die for."   
  
"Be looking forward to it." Harry took the pen and started copying his notes.   
  
The play of sunlight on that bronzed skin momentarily had Draco questioning his date choices. Blond, spry, semi-athletic and nearly-built men seemed paltry compared to tall, dark and Harry Potter. True, Potter had bigger feet than most of his dates but that old myth might be true. Hmm.the size of those gasp-tight trousers weren't just a trick of the light now were they?  
  
Yes, and this was why Draco Malfoy should start paying attention during gym class and more importantly throughout the locker room intervals. Maybe Potter would be a bit more uninhibited about Draco seeing him naked if some sort of relationship was created to base any sort of future experience on? Draco wasn't one to be above casual fucking.  
  
"You're so mono-syllabic." Draco said off-handedly. "I want you to talk with feelings when you're near me. It's as if I'm talking to some dead corpse. or a table for example. I hate being ignored, everyone knows that! I've been constantly the centre of attention since I was born, if you didn't know."   
  
"Yes. and the world revolves around you-what's that word?" Harry pointed towards the board.   
  
"Oh. Ethics-Doesn't it?" Draco asked innocently.   
  
"Doesn't what?" Harry frowned.   
  
"Oh, doesn't the world revolve around me?"   
  
/&*&*&/   
  
Draco Malfoy tugged at his dog's leash as he trotted jovially across the bourgeoisie Surrey neighbourhood, ignoring the big black limousine following him around. He occasionally bent down to pat his poodle's fluffy white head and consequently tug at the luminous pink bow. He raised his wrist to examine his expensive Rolex (women's size but unisex design, mind you. his wrists were tad too small.), the diamond studs gleaming under the faint light of sun.   
  
Perfect, just in time. Four o'clock.   
  
He bent down and scooped Precious, his poodle, in his arms before staring at the homely Dursley house, oblivious the lean and shirtless figure fixing the radiator and oil reservoir of his car. Draco walked towards the little door and waved his command to the limousine driver who parked across the street before knocking thrice.   
  
Tapping the door more than thrice is utterly immoral.   
  
Any sophisticate would know that, it was in the Malfoy law book, code number 17927.   
  
The door opened to reveal an obese figure, hair oddly sticking out in all directions, apparently grooming one's hair was fast becoming a memory. Dudley Dursley's front bangs were streaked a shocking blue while the rest was bright red. His right elbow was propped up on his left hand, a diamond ring on his fourth finger.   
  
"My. what a cute poodle!" He crooned, nasal voice high pitched and all.   
  
Draco smiled proudly and held out Precious. "He's only a month old, his name is precious. precious. say hi to Uncle Dudley Lovely." Dudley took the dog in his arms. "Dud, I've got something really, really, really important to ask you.and I'd rather if you spoke the truth and tell me every single truth."   
  
"What is it?" Dudley crooned at the little white poodle. "My, he's a little sweet. My cousin's got a dog somewhere, it's a large retriever, not exactly my type-manly dogs." He shrugged. "Anyway. what were you saying, Draco, love?"   
  
Draco's expression of complete and utter glee transformed into a dark and mysterious one, he then grabbed Dudley's ear and twisted it, glaring at him. "Adrian's in college now and he seems to be slipping; screaming out words-allow me to correct myself-names, during sex . do you reckon you know anyone named Justin?" He paused, staring at Dudley's shaking head. "Justin. F? Strike any chords?"   
  
"What Justin-OOOWW!!! Alright, Yes, I do! I know him. he's my classmate!" Draco twisted the shell once more. "ALRIGHT! GODDAMMIT! COME IN THE HOUSE AND I'LL EXPLAIN! QUIT PULLING MY BLOODY EAR OR IT MIGHT JUST COME OFF!" At Draco's complete and utter cooperation on that part, he gestured to an area right behind the blond. "Have him take care of Precious; mum and dad would just throw a fit if they realized that an animal, even one of such high breeding as Precious, had defiled their home."   
  
"Your compliance is certainly much better." Draco smiled and dropped Precious on the floor. "Ey. Servant boy!" He motioned to the figure behind the hood. "Come and fetch my dog. Take care of him-you don't mind Dud, right? Right.-yes you, who did you think I was talking to?"   
  
He was rewarded with quite a shock to the system when said figure emerged from beneath the hood, wonderful chest miraculously bare and fingers extricating grease from cuticles with a hideous rag. 


	3. Chapter Two

Disparity  
  
II. Potter the Sucker and Dudley's bargain  
  
"Potter?" Draco raised an eyebrow and peered at the servant boy over the tops of his Bada shades as the fine male specimen approached. "My." He paused and stared, obviously checking Harry Potter out. Not bad, not bad at all. what with him being half naked and everything. oooh, he would need a bib soon if he didn't take a hold of himself and look away. This was even better than the free peepshow in the male locker room. "You look good." He stopped himself just in time and shook his head to clear the cobwebs. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Duh! He's my cousin. Draco, I'm sure you've met Harry." Dudley said flatly. "He's good for nothing-except fixing my absolutely gorgeous bubblegum pink car. but other than that, he's completely useless. I mean, really, who'd want to listen to Korn or Metallica all day? Daddy says that only narcotic drug addicts do!"  
  
"You're telling me. I've got this cousin-Yes, Nymphy-who's a big fan of Evanescence! She even dyed her hair black, now constantly lines her eyes and lips with kohl and actually had her lips pierced. Really! The things people do in honour of exalting their 'icons'." Exasperated roll of the eyes. "As if those studs decorating her nose, ears and eyebrows weren't enough as it was. She's utterly gothic and creepy." Suppression of a feigned shudder which wracked slim shoulders. "Why not listen to music made by Britney or Hillary Duff or Christina or John Mayer? Anything's better than destroying one's eardrums due to the audio sampling of whiny angsty guitar riffs. Haven't they understood the utter sophistication of immersing one's self in the diversity of music of like say. did I mention Britney. Have you seen her 'Me Against the Music' video?"  
  
"Yes!" Dudley exclaimed. "I loved it!"  
  
"I totally agree!" Draco contained a squeal. "It was a great candidate for hot lesbian sex but then again, I'm gay so I wouldn't think I'd be into lesbians like Britney and Madonna. being the hot blonde bombshells they are. Oh god. Madonna, she's like the ultimate diva!"  
  
"I've got to agree with you there." Dudley nodded. "Yes, definitely- Westlife! Yes! Or Josh Groban. hotness.What else? Oh my god. Boyzone! They kick ass! Oh! Did you hear that that Stephen guy got married in Las Vegas? And. hmm. Oh my god! Avril!"  
  
Harry sighed and cleared his throat, contemplating the merits of suicide against listening to this particularly enlightening conversation.  
  
"You called?" he asked, shoving his hands deep into his jeans pockets as if fumbling for something. "Oh, forgot to return this." He retrieved a black pen from his trousers and held it out to Draco. "Thanks anyway."  
  
"Suit yourself." Draco shrugged, taking the proffered writing instrument and stuffing it into his tiny backpack while depositing his poodle into Harry's unexpecting arms. "Take care of Precious now. He won't stand for being unattended to. And he absolutely wants everyone to croon- not speak, mind you-to him, just like I do. Just throw a nice comment or two every few minutes or so his way and he'll undoubtedly take to you. Don't feed him anything from the sea, he'll get allergies and if he gets thirsty, he only drinks Evian-definitely no tap water. Trot along now."  
  
He removed his rimless sunglasses from their perch on his hair and slid them back on his nose. Turning his back on that lovely tanned body, he regarded Dudley for a moment before linking his arm through a more shall we say chubby one and proceeded to regale the plebeian house with his presence. "Dudders, you were telling me something?"  
  
/&*&*&/  
  
"You fag!" Draco exclaimed. "Adrian's having sex with Justin, I knew it. He's cheating on me. and this is all your fault!" Draco pouted, throwing the bright blue ball against Dudley's bright red bedroom wall. "You should fix it, give Justin herpes or something, I don't care. just keep him away from Adrian! You know I hate sharing and if it means I'll have to share Adrian then that Justin boy must be off his rocker because there is no way in hell that I'm giving Adrian up to some low-life second grade piece of scum!"  
  
"I told you, I didn't do anything! If they're sleeping with each other, then they're responsible for that! Not sweet and innocent Dudders here!" Dudley explained carefully. "I mean, really, Draco... act more mature, don't blame everything on me!"  
  
"Don't you Draco me!" Draco pointing an accusing finger in Dudley's direction. "If you didn't introduce him to Justin, then he wouldn't be cheating on me! I mean, it's so unfair! I'm the paradigm of loyalty and he's been cheating! I'd do anything for him! Must I be the one to decide on everything then? I mean, say. we got married or something, must I be the one to decide upon everything while he's warming his dick up someone else's arse? THAT IS SO BLEEDING UNFAIR! I AM SO FREAKIN' LOYAL AND HE'S A CHEATING SCUMBAG!"  
  
"You redundant bitch! You've been cheating on him throughout the course of your relationship and nearly half your life! You flirt with just about anyone and you love it when someone smacks you on the arse. You're sexually addicted and you can't commit Draco. Get the facts straight, honey. You're psychologically ill darling; I learned that in medical school."  
  
"Well. That's not cheating-that's just flirting, those are two different rationales! And like you said, I'm excused-I'm psychologically ill."  
  
"You slept with Professor-"  
  
"Don't remind me." Draco shuddered and mock fainted onto the edge of Dudley's pastel pink bed. "That was really bad, that man couldn't even get it up! He's impotent-but I was failing Gym class! So halfway through the act, I had to give up and just give him a lap dance. Oh, I should be martyred for both acts! And you know I hate getting sweaty and sticky, I'd rather skip it for something much more entertaining: Ballet or Orlando Bloom movies for example. Ooooh." A near orgasmic swoon. "Lord of the Rings for example or Pirates of the Caribbean-" Another post-orgasmic swoon. "Ooh. Johnny Depp-Black Hawk Down with Ewan!"  
  
"Well. you've got a point... and a really great point at that." Dudley paused. "But what can I possibly do-I mean, really. it was his choice! I told him you wouldn't like it but he insisted that you wouldn't mind. he said you wouldn't care any less since you sleep with half of Britain's male population on a regular basis, granted, also the other half of the female population."  
  
"He said that? That bastard! I'd never sleep with a woman! Humph!" An adorably sexy pout crossed his features. "You should fix this Dudley! Fix it!" Draco scowled. "You ruined it. You fix it!" He smacked Dudley on the arm-hard. "I want you to fix this; I don't care what happens to you, just fix it, fix it, and fix it! If you don't, I'll tattle on daddy and he can kick your father out of his job!"  
  
Dudley frowned for a moment before he came across a bright (or so he thought.) idea. "HARRY!!!"  
  
/&*&*&/  
  
"Oi. you pooch!" Harry growled as he slammed the water bottle down on the ground and approached Draco's dog, Precious and his own retriever, Pimp ( between the name Brutus or Pimp in the pet shop, he'd rather have the latter). "Get your paws off my dog! He's straight and even if he was gay, he isn't into poodles- now get!"  
  
"HARRY!!!"  
  
He groaned as he heard Dudley's voice. He shook his head and tugged on Pimp's collar, giving him a swift kick into the general direction of the backyard. "There's no way in hell you're mating with some ugly curly effeminate poodle with an effeminate owner. god knows, I'd end up paying him for the rest of my life for tainting his precious poodle."  
  
"Oh, Harry! Darling?"  
  
He scowled as he felt his cousin's encompassing presence looming behind him.  
  
"Precious!" Draco exclaimed as he pulled his petty little dog towards him. "That dog's not vaccinated and he may have tics. You can't go near him- you're Malfoy property. You can't get yourself tarnished or you'll have to go spend the rest of your life with the Lestranges or worse, with the Tonks! You wouldn't want that now, do you Precious?"  
  
"Believe me; you wouldn't want to live with the Tonk's." Dudley remarked off-handedly. "I was once her classmate and believe me. they hang poodles on the walls and feed them potty water-the worst part is, they feed you left-over shrimps and then you'll get nasty rashes. You would then die drowning in a pool of your own drool and then they'd nail you onto a board and hang you on their rickety wall!"  
  
The poodle cowered and tried to burrow in Draco's expensive white dress shirt. "That's more like it, Precious. listen to mummy.yes, afraid now aren't you?"  
  
"Harry." Dudley batted his lashes innocently, as his voice hit a strangely soprano pitch (higher than what could be deemed possible.). "You're my really handsome and most favourite cousin right? The handsome- est and the most cleverest and the most favourite-est?"  
  
Harry inwardly gagged. "As if you needed to remind me."  
  
"You're my best cousin right?" Dudley asked sweetly. "The best among the rest? The very, very best? Right? Huh?"  
  
"Dud! Get on with it!" Draco whined, tapping his shiny black patent loafers. "You're not getting to the point and I can't waste my time here talking to some loser! I mean, Hello? Daddy wants me home before five-we have a party at seven and mum and I scheduled for this whole body scrub in an exclusive leisure spa somewhere in Wiltshire-we're taking the chopper. besides, the masseuses are all gay males with rods the size of German Frankfurters."  
  
"Well you'll have to wait. these things take time and special skills!" Dudley scowled the paused as if suddenly realizing Draco's last statement. "German Frankfurters? Oh god, what I wouldn't give for ten minutes with one of those, but from what I've heard my beloved cousin's got bigger." He trailed off as he became the recipient of a fear-inducing Harry Potter glare.  
  
So, he continued with his tirade, taking note of the furtive glances Draco shot in the direction of Harry's crotch. "Harry. you're my best cousin right and we took you in when your mum and dad died and we fed you and gave you a nice cupboard to sleep in, remember? We even bought you a squirrel a few Christmases ago, right? And when I was small and you were small, I gave you my broken shiny red truck, right? And that was my very favourite."  
  
"How could I forget?" Harry asked, fighting back a sneer. "How considerate of you for taking me in and giving me your wonderful toy truck. despite the fact that it was utterly useless and you took it back when you bought that book of yours. What was it again?" A faux look of contemplation crossed his features before settling on smug. "Right, 'The Joys of Gay Sex'."  
  
"God! You ungrateful straight asshole!" Dudley glared at him, scandalised, his hand on his chest. "Look, I want you to accompany Draco to Trinity College. Think of this as an adventure-it's the only time you'll ever get into an expensive college. I've got a mission for you."  
  
"Not unless if it involves having sex with whales then I don't think I'd enjoy that." Harry tried hard to suppress a grin. "But then again, it's fuck all, isn't it? If you want me to head to Trinity College to piss off some random boyfriend of yours, think again, Dudley. I'm not doing that."  
  
"I think he just insulted you Dud." Draco smiled, "Potter, you're very clever. I'm beginning to enjoy you. Dudley, why don't you tell him that he's only to accompany me there to set up thermo-scanners around Adrian's room to check on my darling boyfriend since I can't very well have the services of an electricity person charged to my account since Daddy'll be undoubtedly suspicious of that. Don't worry, though, Potter, if you won't tell anyone about this then I won't tell anyone about this-alright?"  
  
"I couldn't care any less if you told anyone." Harry muttered then paused, "How much are you willing to give?"  
  
Dudley, who had been muttering something along the lines of 'what, and he won't question thermo-scanners being charged to his account?' suddenly paused in his ramblings with an aghast look painted on his features as he chastised his cousin. "What do you mean how much you ingrate? Have you no shame-"  
  
"Fifty thousand pounds?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "That's a lot for someone like you. It will ensure a semester in Monkshood in case something happens."  
  
"One hundred thousand." Harry shook his head. "There are two semesters in a whole school year. You miscalculated. One semester won't have me graduating. I need two semesters to move into college-and quite honestly? I also need an upgrade for my jeep."  
  
Draco turned his head and gawked at the maroon jeep with black rims. "You honestly call that a jeep? If you want, I'll get you a new one with a stellar radio. Darling, you're speaking to Draco Lucius Malfoy, the richest kid in Monkshood. I can give you anything and anyone. That's like, three in a package: sex, money and power!"  
  
"I'll take the money and the jeep." Harry shrugged at Dudley and shook Draco's manicured and well-moisturised hand. "I can monitor straight for a week during Spring Break except on Sunday. I have to meet one of my friends and won't be back until the following Monday at noon."  
  
"I don't care about your liaisons and trysts! If I need you somewhere, you have to be there. You do everything I want without question. I want a job well done." Draco raised his chin contemplatively. "Alright, I think I ought to leave. Dudley, darling, you've got a wonderful and dependable cousin. If he does an extremely good job, I'll get you your own private man-whore-for your own exclusive use, at your own disposal. He'll have a dick larger than a baseball bat."  
  
"I'd like that very much." Dudley smiled, "Can I have your cousin Roger Parcy instead?" He bat his eyelashes coquettishly. Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Alright. Harry, I will be there to make sure you do a good job or I will slit your throat and pull out your intestines and hang you with it. Don't you dare think it's a joke! If I have to shave your balls and your dick until it's as thin as a pencil and as short as my shortest finger, I will!"  
  
"That's going to be scary." He smirked. "Alright then, it's nice making business with both of you." He grinned before he ambled towards his ratty jeep.  
  
"You know Draco, I wouldn't mind if you marry my cousin." Dudley smiled, "That way, you can continuously give me my own male gigolos to enjoy. And it wouldn't be so bad if we referred to all those rumours in school about his prowess." At this the whale-boy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
"Dream on, Dudley."  
  
~~ * ~~  
  
A/N: Chinkah! Dudley came out just like you! 


End file.
